


call it stardust

by dansunedisco



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Princess Clarke, Running Away, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is the grumpy captain of a space freighter (with a not-so-secret heart of gold). Clarke is just looking for transportation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> a sort-of firefly/space pirate AU.
> 
> each chapter will end up being a snippet of the 'verse; tags will be added as it grows! :)

“Are you taking passengers?”

Bellamy squinted up at the newcomer. They were short, pretty; blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and wearing clothes that immediately pegged them as money, a descriptor that usually meant they wouldn’t last long in the slums of Sector 24. 

“Maybe,” he drawled, standing up to his full height. He’d been sitting in a foldout chair Raven had procured several months back, and had been since they docked that morning. He tucked his thumbs into his belt, gun on clear display. It didn’t go unnoticed that the blonde’s gaze darted to it before meeting his own. “For the right price.”

She frowned. “And what’s the right price?”

He tapped the vid-screen. “It says right here, princess.” 

She huffed, clearly bothered by the nickname, but stepped up to the screen anyway.

Bellamy watched her read, his curiosity more than piqued. Everyone, even those who hadn’t ever done business down here, knew that all the ships had to reveal their schematics to the public: their class, what they were carrying, what their business was—what or whom they were willing to take on, and for how much.

“Never done this before, have you?” he asked.

“No,” she said loftily, “but how hard can it be?”

He smirked. “Your first mistake was talking to me.”

“I can see that now.” 

“No, see—you didn’t ask me where I was going. And anyone with half a brain knows a customer willing to go anywhere, no questions asked, is a runner. I don’t have a problem with runners, if they got the money… but _you_. Have you seen yourself, princess?”

“Not _princess_ —“

“Your hair is clean; eyes bright. Got clothes that probably cost more than what I make in a month.” He folded his arms across his chest. “No, you’re not just a runner. You’re a runner who’ll have people looking for you. So, what are you running from?”

“You’re right,” she said, voice clipped. “Talking to you was a mistake.”

He watched her turn into the crowd with a sigh. He could hear Raven’s voice now if she caught wind of him turning a passenger—a rich, _paying_ passenger—down. They’d been running on fumes these last several months, losing business to newer ships and corporate cargo freights. A guaranteed paycheck would do miracles for morale.

With a grumble, he darted after the blonde, falling in step beside her easily. “You don’t want any of these other ships.”

“No?”

“No,” he said, pointing to the next dock over. “That’s Vantine. His ship’s not bad, but he’s a notorious lech.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Sure, but do you really want to watch your back?” 

The blonde scoffed. “Where’s this sudden sales pitch coming from?”

“Would you believe me if I said a place of worry?”

“Something tells me you don’t worry about strangers,” she said. “And since you dressed me down so well, how about I give it a go? You’re desperate. Your ship’s an Arrow class. One of the older models, too, and I’ll bet you your engineer, if you can even _afford_ one, is always bitching about the engine coupling shaking loose.”

He stared, and she pressed on, “You could use the paycheck you’re ninety-nine percent sure I’m good for, but you’re prideful, and taking on someone who looks like _me_ rubs you the wrong way.”

He stopped walking. To his surprise, she stopped walking, too.

“Monroe’s not bad. She’s down on 17,” he said, stomach swimming with dull anger. If the princess was right about anything, it was that he was prideful, and he really wasn’t in the mood to swallow any more of it today. Running after her had been more than enough. Others would come. It was still early in the day. He’d find people to fill his roster, even if he had to lower the price. 

She looked shocked. “That’s it?”

“Guess I’m not as desperate as you thought.”

She frowned. “Guess not.”

The rest of the day sailed by. Bellamy hustled hard in the interim, fueled by his wounded pride and flashes of righteous indignation, and had somehow managed to wrangle two passengers willing to pay full price of admission by the time Raven, Miller, and Monty returned from the flea market. 

“Jesus, what did you bribe them with?” Raven asked, when she saw the transport bill. “Is one of them bunking with you? Are _both_ of them bunking with you?”

He shot her a dull look. “They wish.”

Miller raised a questioning eyebrow, and Monty said, “Bellamy can be charming. What? He can.”

“When he wants to be, sure,” Raven countered, “and when have we ever known King Sourpuss to be willfully charming?”

“King Sourpuss?” 

Bellamy groaned. The girl from before was standing at the end of the loading dock, looking highly amused by his crew. He was sure the badass, ‘I don’t need you or anyone’ vibe he had given off earlier was well and truly crushed. “What do you want, princess?”

“Princess?” Raven hissed, and he flapped his hand to silence her. 

The blonde hesitated for a second, looking, for the first time, rather unsure of what to do. It was a stark contrast to the know-it-all he’d met earlier, and the soft part of Bellamy (the one he and the crew pretended didn’t exist) hoped the Sector 24 slums hadn’t done its number on her. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I need a cabin,” she said, chin raised high like she dared anyone to fight her on what she needed.

And Bellamy? Really wanted to tell her no. But if no one else had taken her on, well, that meant she had to crawl back to him—and that was enough to make him change his mind. 

“The only one left is the one by the engine room,” he said, which was a blatant lie. They used that room for extra storage because the walls rattled like they were about to come loose whenever they used their thrust boosters, but she didn’t need to know that. “Still interested?”

“Yes,” she snapped, and stalked forward to jab three chips into his pectorals. “Now shut up, and take my money.” 

Bellamy smirked down at her, letting the moment draw out for as long as possible. He felt like he was in one of those old, grainy cowboy movies his mom liked to watch; the outlaw, the sheriff, the stand down in town’s square. Victory never felt better. “Gladly.” He nodded at Monty. “Can you take--”

“Clarke,” she supplied.

“Can you take Clarke to her cabin?”

Monty nodded, and came forward to lead Clarke into the hold. Miller followed slowly behind. Bellamy was sure they'd have words later.

Raven turned to Bellamy when they were alone, arms crossed over her chest. “What the hell is going on?”

“I got you a new coupling,” he answered, an offering of parts a classic diversion technique that had Raven rolling her eyes.

“Not what I asked,” she said, “but I’ll let it slide. For now.”

Bellamy waited until the bay was empty before shutting the hangar door. Something told him he might’ve bitten off more than he could chew with Clarke; but hey, he was always up for a challenge.


	2. interlude: clarke's story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a head's up: this 'verse isn't 100% linear, as you'll discover with this chapter.
> 
> i promise more bellamy/clarke + crew interaction is coming v. v. soon though.

“Wells. _Wells_. Wake up.”

He woke with a start, blinking blearily up at the shadow standing over him. Clarke, his mind registered a second later. He stared for a confused moment, gathering his bearings, then reached over to click his bedside lamp on. He sat up. “What are you doing?” he asked blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night and you’re--”

She clapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it,” she said. “Please.”

Wells nodded slowly, and her hand slipped away. She didn’t say anything more, but, then again, she didn’t really have to. There was only one reason for her to be standing in his room, a few minutes past midnight, dressed like a runaway and carrying a backpack. “What do you need me to do?” he asked.

Relief cut across her face. “Come with me.”

He scrubbed his hands across his head, stomach swooping at the logistics. He was the son of the chancellor, and he could only imagine the size of the scandal if both he and the literal crowned princess of the Ark colony escaped in the middle of the night--all to avoid her marriage to some schmuck from a planet a light-jump away. The guy was heinous, the match ill-advised at best, but politics were politics, and royalty very rarely had the luxury of marrying for love. Especially when alliances were at stake.

“You know I can’t,” he said. “Your mother--”

“Her majesty can eat a two-headed deer for all I care,” she ground out. “This is my life, Wells, and I’m not rolling over and marrying some-- some prick because she says so.”

He tried not to smile, but his lips twitched up anyways. Clarke had been in a dark funk for months, ever since her betrothal had been announced a year ago, waffling back and forth between wanting to uphold her late father’s honor and wanting to do what was best for herself. Now, it looked like she had made her decision. It was the one Wells was, as her friend, rooting for. But, as a budding strategist, running away wasn’t the option he would have chosen.

“The whole city’s gonna be on lockdown the moment someone realizes you aren’t in your bed.”

“Which is why I’m leaving now. There’s a port, in the Factory sector. The pilots down there don’t ask questions if you have the money,” she countered. “And they’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“Maybe so, but you’re not some random citizen. Your face has been in the papers since you were born.” He frowned. “They’ll take your money with one hand, and call the Guard about their missing princess with the other.”

“Which is where Harper comes in.”

“And me?”

He saw her swallow, jaw working while she worked up the words.

“You-- you’re my friend,” she said, finally. “I know we haven’t been on the best of terms this past year. Which, I realize, is the understatement of the century, but-- you’re my friend.”

“I know.” He stared down at the carpet. “You’re supposed to be up in four hours… and something tells me your mom might be keeping an eye out on you. You should go.”

“Wells.”

“I’ll cover for you. Try to -- stall, or cool things with my dad. Find someone else to make an alliance with, maybe. Shouldn’t be hard. We have enough hanger-ons as it is.”

She shifted on her feet, then darted forward to grip him in a tight hug. She squeezed once, and then pulled away. “Let’s not say goodbye, okay?”

“Stay safe, Clarke,” he said. “Until we meet again.”

She nodded, lips pressed tight together, and slipped away into the night.

He sighed. He would be the first person on the list of Clarke’s accomplices. Might as well get up and prepare a convincing story.

 

-

 

Clarke swiped her sleeve against her eyes. Asking Wells to come along had been a long shot. She knew that, but it didn’t make the choice to leave without him any easier. He was her best friend, even if she hadn’t acted like it for a long time.

All the anger she had felt when he had silently supported her mother’s decision to marry her off like chattel dissolved just as quickly as her resolve to follow orders had crumbled. They had been through thick and thin all her life, and it was almost inconceivable that he wouldn’t be joining her on this new adventure. But he was right. He couldn’t come. Not without throwing the whole colony into an uproar, and instability in these times were dangerous.

She jogged through the corridors. Every turn she made, she expected to see a guard ready to apprehend her, but her pathway was clear. Still, it wasn’t until she entered the east gardens and saw her friend that she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Wells?” Harper asked.

“Not coming,” she replied. “Let’s go.”


End file.
